


Soil

by MisterBroflovski



Category: SOAD, System of a Down - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bullying, HS AU, High School, High School AU, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 02:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterBroflovski/pseuds/MisterBroflovski
Summary: Daron Malakian has joined System of a Down at the young age of 16, and his actions & behavior begin to catch up to him when faced with his adult band mates. To show how much they care, each one does their part to help Daron survive the responsibilities of high school, and music. (Warning: Mention of drug use, abuse, bullying, and sex.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first SOAD fic, posted for @ObeyTheSystem.

Serj was never like that. 

No, no he wasn't. He never needed a permanent chaperone, no one to make sure he was safe in his own mind, the only place where he was ever truly alone, no one had to monitor the exterior. No one had to guard his mind like a palace, no one had to keep away intruders or toxins. No, not Serj. He was independent. An individual. Someone who knew the fine line between self awareness and paranoia. Someone who knew another fine line between steady going and dead weight. He never expected anyone else to validate him, as he knew exactly what he needed and how to get it, on his own. 

No, not Serj. 

Daron. 

Yes, yes, it was Daron. 

Daron Malakian. System of a Down's guitarist, a band started by none other than himself and Serj. Along the passing year they had recruited a bassist and a drummer, Shavo Odadjian and John Dolmayan*. Although they are all of Armenian descent and attended the same Armenian school delivering to an exclusive population within Los Angeles, they had never really had much communication up until the binding of the band. This led to a call for quick acquaintance. 

This lack of communication? It was caused by a major age gap. 

Serj Tankian was 26, John was 24, Shavo 22, and Daron...

Well, Daron was the ripe old age of 16.

Recruiting such a young student into a band where he played a major role dusted up a few problems that, the rest of System of a Down, could not particularly handle. 

Still, they had a habit to look beyond the age and into the mind, the talent, the behavior, the history. Daron could talk until he turned blue and still have millions of words he needed to get into the air. Not only that, his words mattered. Truly mattered. He could write a song while reading another and include every event from that year into its long itinerary of impossible lyrics.

Daron knew more about the ways of the world than any other 16 year old alive, however he was incredibly shy. He was the type of person to remain closed, silent, like a morning glory, until he was exposed to the most comfortable surrounding, and there he could bloom. Open up. However, once that environment passed, he closed again, and waited for the morning once more. 

System of a Down had come too far in getting Daron to open up to let it slip. It had taken months to earn his utmost comfortability. 

..........................................................

"...and you'll come by around 5. 5? 6. You'll come by at 6. That doesn't..y'know...give us a whole lot of time.....yeah. Yeah I know. Ok. 6."

Shavo returned the phone to the wall suspended hook and rubbed his eyes with his free hand; the other was loosely fit around a lit cigarette. 

"He's not coming til 6. He's got SAT tutoring or something." Shavo finished his sentence and returned the cigarette to his lips, dedicating his attention to something other than Serj. 

Serj snickered a little bit, looking up at Shavo from his spot on the couch. Just the two of them were in the recording studio in the midst of Los Angeles. Daron was, of course, at school. 

"How the fuck is this going to work?" Was the thought that Serj's mind reiterated over and over, every time a scheduling conflict arose. While Serj was understanding and responsible, and above all, optimistic, Daron still had a year of high school, as this one was coming to a close. System of a Down had potential. The members were close, they seemed to click. They were talented. They were smart. People wanted to hear what they had to say, and after a few gigs at small bars and tiny venues, they were getting closer and closer to The Viper Room. 

The Viper Room was something System of a Down had been looking forward to since Daron met Serj at the recording studio a year earlier. Daron was a fresh 16 and looking for work in writing songs for people, and Serj was a keyboardist for another band. After coming around to talking, they both realized they shared a common dream of playing The Viper Room. 

"What's it now? Three thirty? Should I go get something to eat or should I have Daron pick us up something on the way over here?" 

"Daron's not going to get you food, faggot. He's not paying for you."

John laughed at Shavo's inquiry from the entrance. The little bell of the doorway rung upon John's arrival; rather than a warm greeting to his fellow band mates he said 'hello' by calling Shavo a faggot. 

"Fine, then you're paying for yourself AND giving me gas money."

"How the fuck am I supposed to figure out how much gas money it'd take to get from point a to point b?"

"Do you want your fucking chow mein or not John?"

"I'll give you twenty bucks and I'll suck your dick, sound good, faggot?"

"Oh yeah, sounds nice, love getting my dick choked on by Gaylords like John. Look at him, Serj, he's getting a fuckin' kick out of talking about my dick." Shavo was attempting to guide Serj's line of vision to the dumb grin on John's face, his arms strung out. However Serj didn't look. Instead he kept his giggling to himself and stared at the magazine in his lap. He avoided looking at them on purpose, because if he looked he'd have to settle the dispute and that was not a task he was willing to undertake. 

Unlike Serj, John obnoxiously let his laughter be known. Shavo reached into the pocket of his shorts and flicked a pen at him.

"Write down what you want, shithead. Don't worry about paying me."

"What a gentleman. You love me, huh Shavo?"

"Write down what you want or I'm not getting you shit," 

Serj hardly let the throwing of objects or obscenities distract his train of thought. Not that he was above the immaturity and name calling, but he was a bit busy. Any other time he would have thrown an object or obscenity into the pot, but right now, he was in a whirlwind. 

Having not moved in nearly half an hour, in the same cross legged position on the couch, pinpricks ran up and down his legs. There were wrinkle indentions in his skin from the folds of his baggy pants.

That wasn't it. 

There was a feeling within his bones, in his back, in his lungs, that felt almost the same. It wasn't the feeling of nerves desensitizing, or sleepy limbs. It wasn't a feeling of sickness or injury, it was quite a bit different. It felt oddly familiar. 

Worry, it was worry. 

Horrible worry. 

The dreadful feeling spread to the middle of Serj's chest and he felt his hands begin to tighten around the edges of the magazine. 

"Shavo, where did you put the phone?" 

Shavo looked up at Serj. He had been having a conversation with John, most likely about sex or takeout, which had been almost blindly interrupted by Serj's outburst. 

"It's uh...on the hook." 

Serj suddenly straightened out his legs and pushed himself off of the couch, seeming to make it from there to the phone in a single movement. 

He pressed the redial button, and the phone began to ring to the landline in which Daron made his last call. 

No one answered. The voicemail played back. 

"You've reached..." an automated operator, and then an inserted clip of the phone number's owner saying their name (Serj didn't understand what it said, and he did not recognize it from anyone Daron talked to him about). "Please leave your name, number and message."

Serj hung up before the beep, and called again. 

This time someone DID pick up, after about five rings. All the while his company was watching him, and the silence was uncomfortable and tense. Shavo and John exchanged an equally as unsettled look. They were both trying to figure out what had suddenly happened to Serj, as he seemed to have been fine merely a second ago. 

A voice that Serj didn't recognize. There was a running pattern here that made the dread welling in Serj's body less and less bearable. 

"Who the fuck is calling?"

The voice was prefaced by a dry cough, and all the while he spoke, he was giggling. There was laughter in the background as well, barely picked up by the microphone. 

"I'd actually rather like to know who this is."

Shavo heard what Serj was saying, and decided that his tone was a little too serious. He sounded as though he was going to make something turn sour very fast. 

"Serj--uh...maybe you should uh---hang up? Call back in a minute.."

Shavo sounded panicky, and he was rushing over to Serj to take the phone away. 

Serj put his hand up gently to ward him off. He was most certainly not done. 

"Look man, I'm not fuckin' with you. Who the fuck is this, man?" 

The voice was still giggling, for no apparent reason. He was baked. The dread grew darker. 

"Is Daron there?"

"Yeah Daron's here, man. Haha, he's right here. He's fuckin' wild, lemme tell you. I dunno who you are man but you need to know he is fuckin' wild. Come here man, come here Daron, your fuckin' dad wants to talk to you." 

The voice got distant on the other line as it was calling for Daron. Serj was relieved that he was there, but at the same time, furious, and terrified. 

"Uh..hey..?"

Daron's voice was a lot less reassuring than Serj had hoped. Hearing it had somehow made him even less satisfied. 

"Where the fuck are you?"

"I'm at--I'm at a friends house--...Serj? What the fuck? Is that you?"

"Yes, it is."

"Shit--..."

Daron pulled away from the phone, and his voice became distant as well. 

"I...I'm gonna have to go---"

Daron returned to the phone, obviously trying to reason with Serj or calm him down, but in response, he hung up the phone and returned it to the hook. 

Serj leaned against the wall. Shavo and John were both staring at him in silence, waiting for him to speak. When something was awry, it was everyone's right to know, that was a ground rule established at square one. 

"What was that?" Shavo finally said. 

"SAT tutoring my fucking ass."  
\-----------------------------------  
As they would do anything to avoid the uncomfortable tension that now surrounded the recording studio, Shavo and John left to find a takeout place, and left Serj to wait for Daron. 

Serj was on the couch again, waiting to hear the tires of Daron's handmedown truck roll along the gravel and park out front of the studio. 

That noise didn't come for almost forty five minutes. 

When it did, Serj's tranquil breathing hitched, and the calm aura that usually surrounded him shattered like thin glass, shimmering to the ground in millions of tiny, glitter like particles. 

Had Daron been in any other state or condition, he would have been terrified of every outcome expecting the worst (i.e. Losing his place in the band, losing Serj's respect), however, the most he now expected was a slap on the wrist. 

Honestly, how bad was a little bit of pot? Shavo smoked all the time in the his apartment, whenever they were all there practicing, hell, Serj was no stranger to the bong. He certainly knew his way around it. So why was it any different for Daron to be doing it? If anything, he should be more accepted into the band. 

Daron walked in the door and failed to notice Serj standing right in the way. 

He backed up against the door and Serj placed a hand against it, the other hand was in his pocket. 

"You wanna tell me what you were really doing, 'SAT tutoring'?"

Serj's voice and facial expression were alarmingly calm. And gentle, much too gentle for what he felt. Daron couldn't seem to focus on anything other than the white, thermal under wear material that cloaked Serj's arm, and ran into his shoulder, and spread across his chest. All white, all squared, all bumpy. 

Daron was fucking ripped. 

"I can really smell all that studying you've been doing."

"Could you do me a favor and crawl out of my ass..?"

Daron's voice was sluggish, and his mouth hardly moved when he spoke. His eyes were halfway lidded and the boldness and brightness of them seemed to have devolved. The liveliness of his entire face was nearly gone; his childlike naïveté, his wonder, his purity...

It had all gathered itself into smoke and disappeared into the atmosphere the second he breathed out. 

"You know what I was doing Serj. Don't play fucking stupid."

Daron refused to make eye contact. He let his head slowly droop down, and his hair fell in his face. It had gotten to the point of spilling onto his shoulders, so it concealed a good percentage of his face. 

Serj took his hand off of the door and stepped back to examine Daron. His hair encased his face, he was wearing a tee and one of Shavo's jackets, and some incredibly baggy blue jeans that had most likely belonged to someone else as well. He was wearing his vans that didn't match with his outfit and his hands were completely invisible under the too-big sleeves of the jacket. He looked small in all those clothes, not only that, but it seemed uncharacteristic. 

He usually wore clothes that fit him perfectly. Now suddenly he dressed dirty. 

"Take off your jacket, Daron."

"Fuck off, Serj." 

Daron began to walk away from the situation, trying not to touch Serj on the way out, but Serj grabbed the back of Daron's jacket and it began to slide off as he walked away. Serj pulled, and got the jacket off of his frame. 

Daron instinctively reached to cover himself, with a small, alarmed gasp. He would have been much more nervous had he not been in the clouds. 

Under the shaky grip of Daron's hands lied red, irritated patches of skin patterning his arms. Within those patches were small, round, cauterized wounds. Cigarette burns. New ones, they still appeared to hurt, and they hadn't even gotten the chance to scab over. When Serj had asked for the jacket, his motive was to search it for heavier drugs. But this...was somehow just as bad. 

"Who the fuck did that to you..?!"

Serj's attitude toward addressing this situation went from anger to concern, and a horrid mixture of both. 

"I did?" The way Daron answered him sounded like he was trying to make Serj feel stupid, especially with the passive giggle that followed it. 

"Who the fuck did you get cigarettes from?" 

Daron attempted to snatch the jacket away from Serj's hand to protect his last bit of evidence. 

However, the split second of tug of war between the two caused the jacket to straighten out, and a box of cigarettes was flung onto the ground. It was almost empty and still had the packaging around parts of it. 

"I bought them Serj,"

"You're 16, dumbass. You can't. Tell me who fucking gave them to you." 

Serj seemed overwhelmingly parental, and the way he exercised his height advantage over Daron made it feel as though he was a victim of authoritative oppression. His hand gestures made it much worse, as they were gentle, and did not match his expression at all. 

"My friend did, alright, fucking hell," 

"What the hell is wrong with you, D?" Serj's voice was soft again, as it was never very deep the fear was obvious. Daron stood straight and kept his hands covering his skinny arms. He pressed them both against his stomach, and the baggy shirt tightened around his frame. He had a baggy black shirt tucked into baggier blue jeans, that he had to pull up high on his waist and strap a belt around to keep everything in place. None of the clothes where his, and the pants he'd gotten from either Shavo or his cousins. The tension in the room held the same feeling as being yelled at by his parents, except somehow, this was worse. And the worst part of it was, this wasn't the only episode he would have to face, he knew his parents were going to yell at him for this too. 

"Are they burning you?"

Serj's eyes were worried. That was the only part of him that always seemed serious. 

"It was just a game,"

"You didn't answer my question."

"We were just seeing who could keep it there the longest, it wasn't like, bad or whatever you're thinking."

"How do you not see that that is bad?" 

"They're not that bad, Serj."

Every time Daron said Serj's name, he winced. He couldn't tell if it was out of anger or not, but somehow, it hurt. Serj reached and grabbed Daron's wrist, pulling it toward him. It took a minute of arguing and Daron trying to yank his arm away, but eventually he obliged and let Serj have it. 

Daron hung his head in embarrassment, and his hair spilled in front of his face and chest. Serj examined the burns on Daron's arms. There was small circles of burned skin, three or four that weren't bad, but could use some special attention to heal. Another, on the side of his wrist, was dark, deep, and had flakes of dried blood around it. Serj mouthed a 'fuck' and covered his mouth. He looked up at Daron, who had his free hand over his face under all that hair, and his chest was rising and falling unsteadily and faster than it should be. 

Serj let go, and his arm remained in the air and shook for a second before covering his face alongside the other. 

Serj ran his hand gently over his head and kept it there momentarily. 

"Daron."

Daron didn't remove his hand from his face. The crying even worsened. 

"Daron, please. Look at me."

Daron finally let his hand lower from his eyes, and he looked up, however his hand was still covering his nose and mouth. His eyes were red, and his face was crinkled into a deeply saddened look, with masses of tears lain down his cheeks and hand. 

Serj used both arms to grab his adolescent guitarist, and pulled him until their chests collided and Daron's head was about Serj's shoulder. 

If Serj had to hug another man for any reason, he would not use both arms. Daron tensed. 

"I don't think you should be around those 'friends' anymore. They sound like they're using you as fresh bait for whatever sick shit they play. You're only 16, you're too young to be involved with that."

Daron nodded against Serj's shoulder. He wasn't really listening, the only thing he could really focus on was how his vocalist had his arms around his chest. While one of his palms was pressed flat against his back and the other was still gripping Daron's (originally Shavo's) jacket, it felt like he meant it. It was something he would have never expected from him. 

"I'm serious, Daron. They treat you like shit. You've never been like that before."

"Sorry." 

Daron didn't mean that. At all. A wave of guilt almost washed over him, but he let it subside and sank back into the hug. 

However, Serj let go upon hearing the crunching of gravel from a car pulling up to the studio. Shavo and John were back, after almost an hour. 

It felt sorta shitty, actually, the fact that Serj almost pushed Daron off of him. He was ashamed (which was somewhat understandable, John would give them shit for the rest of their lives if he had caught them like that), and it made Daron feel like shit. Honestly, he was in no place to judge Serj's actions. He wasn't even listening to anything he'd said--he finally had a group of friends at Glendale High and he was not about to let them go. He needed SOMETHING to entertain him over the summer besides housework and demo recording, so what better than to have a group of friends that would probably hook him up with something that'll take him out of his own mind...?

Serj gave Daron a serious look again. He winced, and felt like he was about to tell him not to say anything about what had happened. 

Instead, he handed back his jacket, and said, "I haven't let this go." He walked past Daron with unsteady hands. 

Daron put the jacket back on, and felt like he shrunk. He couldn't tell if he was mad at Serj, or if he was sad, or regretful, but whatever it was, he felt like shit. He avoided the path that Serj chose and sat on the couch, in a cocoon of baggy clothing. 

Shavo opened the door to the studio with a plastic bag filled with takeout and John followed in closely with two more bags. They weren't filled with takeout, but rather random things from a makeshift grocery list that they had made in order to stay away from the studio longer. 

"Hey, D, you're alive."

"Hardly."

"We got you a bunch of fortune cookies, I didn't know what you wanted so there's a lot of stuff here you can ch-"

"I'm not hungry, thanks though man."

That was a lie. Daron had just come from a small room hotboxed to hell and back, he had been and he was starving! He just wasn't in the mood to eat. 

John hit Shavo on the arm lightly and whispered something to him, something Daron couldn't hear, but he knew it was about him because his eyes darted to him mid-sentence. 

It was probably something like, "You can smell him from here."

And you probably could. He needed to cover up the overwhelming scent of weed before he got home. Maybe, he just wouldn't go home today. But somehow being in the same house as his parents with the scent of weed on him was about as painful as being in the same house as Serj with the same. 

"Hey D, where's Serj?"

"The back I guess."

"Was it that bad?"

Shavo's voice was a little more gentle now, and a little quieter, as to not alert their vocalist. Daron wiped his face before looking up at Shavo for the first time today. 

"Holy shit--were you...were you crying D?"

"Fuck off."

"No I'm not making fun of you. I just want to know if it was really that bad,"

"It was shit, I don't want to talk about it, alright?"

Shavo backed off and let Daron be his own, but John interrupted again. 

"Fine, princess, what'd he do, spank you?"

"You know what? Fuck you John. I didn't fucking do anything to you--I don't understand why you have to be such a fucking dickhead to me all the time!"

"I was just trying to lighten the fucking mood, Daron, did I fucking trigger a flashback or something?"

Things had progressively gotten worse, and it was all Daron's fault. However, he was not about to admit that. 

Shavo gave John a little warning to let Daron win by putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning to him again, but John almost roughly pushed his hand away and took a step toward Daron, with a balled fist. 

"Don't fucking talk like that to me, asshole."

"You think I didn't see that, faggot? You and Serj standing there in the fucking doorway? What'd he break your fucking heart, huh?"

"John I fucking swear to god if you keep talking like that to me I'm gonna punch you in the fucking mouth--"

Daron's voice was beginning to waver, and his fidgeting began to get shaky and more violent. 

Shavo stepped in again, but once more, it was a weak attempt at a peaceful resolution. It was ignored. 

"Fucking do it, pussy. I know you won't. You're on bottom."

Daron stood up from the couch, quickly, and with almost a running start, pushed John by the shoulders. He hardly stumbled, and responded by pushing Daron back. Daron was much smaller and much skinnier than John, so the push threw him to the ground. The wind was knocked straight from his lungs as Daron slid a couple feet. He did not move. 

"What the fuck is your problem, John?"

Shavo put a tight grip on John's shoulder and spun him around so that they were face to face. "He fucking instiga-"

"I thought what we were doing was trying to fucking stop shit like this! I don't fucking care what he instigated. You're in no fucking place to throw a fucking 16 year old to the ground!" 

Through all of this, Serj did not come out of the back room. Daron noticed, oh did he notice, and lying on the ground with an arm applying pressure to his ribs somehow hurt worse knowing Serj didn't care. 

Shavo reached out an arm to Daron, only noticing when he opened up his eyes. The next thing he saw was John throwing open the door of the studio and the little bells ringing with as much emotion as John himself. 

Daron raised his hand to Shavo's and was surprised to feel that the strength of a single arm could lift Daron back to his feet with almost no effort from him. 

"You're wearing my jacket huh?"

Shavo asked, quietly. He had the slightest smirk on his face, and he was close enough to Daron that he could feel his body heat. 

Daron giggled. That at least made him feel better, knowing that Shavo still cared. 

"Yeah. I am. It's too big."

"It's not too big. You're too little."

"Shut up."

Daron didn't say this with anger in his voice, rather just a small laugh. He had smiled, just a little bit, and Shavo caught him. That cute, dumb, childlike, pure smile, crooked teeth and all. 

Shavo ruffled that mass of dark, wavy hair. "That's my boy. Also, I know you're hungry. You can't fool me, kiddo. I know how weed works. You want your fortune cookies?"

Daron nodded. 

Sometimes, especially when Daron was upset, Shavo would treat him like he was younger than he really was. And it made him feel better almost 99% of the time. Luckily, this was one of those times. 

"Where's John?"

Upon hearing Serj's voice, Daron's smile faded. He was afraid he was about to get yelled at again. Or maybe he was going to tell Shavo about the burns. He crossed his fingers under the sleeves and hoped that he wouldn't do that. 

(Oh, no. He wouldn't do that. Shavo would find out on his own, there was no way he couldn't.)

"He went outside. He got pissed and fucking pushed Daron, to the floor and everything."

Shavo was dramatizing his story with hand movement. 

"He did what? Why the fuck did he do that?"

Oh. Maybe Serj hadn't even heard the ordeal. After all, it was a soundproof recording studio. This place was so rarely used to record that he'd completely forgot why it was even constructed. Daron mentally kicked himself. 

"Yeah I know! He fucking pushed him! A sixteen year old kid and he fucking knocked him down!"

Serj held the bridge of his nose. "I'll talk to him. It's alright, it's alright." 

Daron had avoided Serj's direct line of sight until he was spoken to. 

"Are you okay D?"

That gentle voice again. But, It felt sincere now. Maybe he really wasn't mad at him anymore--maybe whatever he had to finish about this situation was simple TLC. That was all Daron could pray for. 

He nodded. Softly. 

"Where'd you fall?"

Daron pointed to the side of his chest. He was fine, really, the only thing that hurt was that John actually had intentions of hurting him. Sure, Daron had started it, but if he was honest, we wasn't going to punch him. That push was about all he was capable of. 

Daron hadn't even noticed that Shavo disappeared from his peripheral vision until he presented two handfuls of bagged fortune cookies to him. 

Daron blinked at the mass for a second, until swiping all of them, and putting a few in his pocket. 

Serj giggled and shook his head.

Daron's little hands scrambled to open one of the fortune cookies. He broke it, and put one half in his mouth, holding up the little paper. 

"What's it say, D?"

Shavo was babying him, just enough. Daron smiled, a chipmunk cheek smile with his mouth full of cookie. 

"You have the potential to reach greatness, but sacrifice will be needed." 

Daron put the little slip of paper in the pocket along with the other cookies and disregarded it. 

He shouldn't have, but he did.


	2. Chapter 2

The relationship between System of a Down's guitarist and drummer was repaired over takeout, and Daron's eyes. They made every inch of John's body feel heavier, with guilt. He noticed the way Daron held his ribs as he walked from the counter to the couch. 

"Daron.."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry--I'm-"

Daron flinched upon hearing John. He kept his back to him, and lowered his head. 

"Daron, I'm not going to hurt you. I wanted to say sorry for losing my cool. That was shitty. But you know I'm not patient."

Serj gave John a look, as he wanted him to say more. He hadn't patched up enough. 

"Uh...are you okay though? I mean..I didn't hurt you right? Look...I promise I'll never hurt you like that again. And if I do you can kick the shit out of me, you have my permission."

Daron finally turned around, and gave him a small smirk. He wasn't about to verbally forgive him, but he supposed that the split second of Daron lying his head on John's shoulder was enough. He ended the contact (had it lasted any longer than it did, John would have held a televised roast for Daron), and returned to the couch. They sat in almost complete silence for a while, the only noises were chopsticks and the flipping of notebook pages. 

Serj had a college ruled notebook filled with song lyrics that he'd written freshly, and some ideas for special effects on his vocals that he could muster with his keyboard. They hadn't really come to the studio to record anything, recording was very very rare. They usually only came there to use the studio as a hang out spot and occasionally practice. Honestly, Daron hadn't even gotten his guitar case or any of his many cords out of his truck when he walked in, he didn't feel like he was going to need it. 

John had two drumsets, one at the studio and one at his apartment. Taking it apart and putting it back together daily was a task he could hold off on doing until they played tour dates. 

While the rest of the band sat around with chopsticks and boxes of Chinese food, Daron only held fortune cookies. That was how it usually went. 

"D."

Daron looked up from the little slip of paper. Serj had spoken to him again, motioning at the notebook in his lap. 

"I have an idea."

Daron raised an eyebrow. 

"Do you think you could sing for this part? I mean--your voice would sound pretty cool for that, y'know, it's higher than mine."

"Fuck off. Do you want me to sing for you or do you want me to pout because you made fun of my voice?"

Daron followed up this statement with his dumb nervous laugh, which in turn caused Shavo to giggle. 

"I'd like you to sing it, I'm serious!"

"You think I sound like a prepubescent baby huh?"

"Daron come on, sing it or I'll sing it myself and I'll sound like an old man."

Daron laughed again. 

\-----------------------------------  
Throughout the rest of the night, the contact between Daron and John was minimal, which was probably for the best. The night came about, and the city lights began to illuminate a naked sky. 

That was signal that the studio owner was going to come by and close up shop, and thus a signal for System to vacate. 

They'd gotten hardly anything done besides figuring out how Daron would sing a specific part in a currently untitled song. Serj pretended that he 'didn't like how his own voice sounded with it', but he had in reality written the part for Daron. It was his excuse to get him to sing on the EP. It was backed up and Serj was planning to get it over edited and produced, but Daron was okay with that. He wasn't planning on singing on the EP at all unless it was background screaming that sounded like it blended in with the distortion box anyway. 

Serj and Daron didn't record anything, but they ran through the song a couple of times while Shavo played an improvised bass riff that changed every time the song was sung. John was learning the bass riff in his head to form a drum pattern. He did not run it through with his band mates, that would have to wait until the relationship was less uncomfortable. 

\-----------------------------------

When they were finally kicked from the studio with hands full of instrument cases and trash bags, Daron gave Serj a look of pleading eyes. 

"Serj I don't...think I can go home tonight."

Serj sighed. "Just get in your truck and follow me. I think Shavo's coming too, right?"

Shavo nodded, loading his bass and amp into his car. Once again, John was ignored. John, likewise, ignored the conversation. 

\-----------------------------------  
Shavo and Daron followed Serj back to his apartment, and Daron was alone in his truck with his thoughts. He mapped out what he had to do--call his parents, tell them he was going to inn at Serj's apartment for the night. Probably most of the next day, Saturday, as well. 

Serj mapped out his tasks as well. Call John. That was going to be rough. Find a place for Shavo to sleep, and a place for Daron. Speaking of Daron, the burns. He needed to nurse the burns without Shavo noticing. And while he did that, he would finish what he had to say. And make sure Daron was listening this time (he wasn't stupid, he knew 'sorry' was worth about as much as a box of old paper clips. 'Sorry' wasn't going to cut it). 

Shavo's mind was almost blank besides a Black Flag track playing in his truck. The only thing he wanted to do was talk to John. There was obviously something bigger going on in John's life that he wasn't saying. Same for Daron. Something was really, really wrong. But he wasn't about to butt in on anyone's personal business. Anything that they wanted to share, they would share. And anything they didn't should be kept rightfully private. But one thing he knew for sure; two friends don't just pick fights for poking fun at one another. There was something leading up to both of their outbursts...

\-----------------------------------  
"No I'm serious!! This motherfucker looks like the fucking striped thing from Beetlejuice. I'm serious!"

Daron threw his hands around dramatically. His huge sleeves flowed around with them. 

"Isn't he like a 50 year old bald dude?"

"And he's divorced, so he's physically like, depressed. He looks like he hasn't gotten his dick touched since the dinosaurs roamed the earth."

"He only got the dime Dinosaurs from the street corners."

Daron laughed his stupid, choppy, dorky laugh. Shavo loved it. 

Serj was ignoring the conversation happening between his string duo. He was behind the closed door of his bedroom, on the phone with John. 

Serj was slouched over his bedside with a hand over his eyes, and the other unsteadily holding a phone against his temple. John barely spoke. 

"Tell me what's going on with you, John, please."

"I'm okay, I just got carried away. You know how I am,"

"I do, and it's not like that. You don't just go around pushing kids. You don't hurt anyone, I don't understand why Daron is an exception. If anything, he should be the last person you'd ever lay a finger on."

"He's a fuckin' dork, Serj. I mean I love the guy. He's like a little brother. But he was being a piece of shit."

"He's not outgoing enough to be a piece of shit for no reason. What were YOU doing?"

Serj's accent over pronounced some letters, and it made his point come across much easier. 

"I was giving him a hard time! I do that to him all the fuckin time and he does it back. I honestly don't think it was me who pissed him off, I think it was you."

"I wasn't the one who pushed him to the ground."

"It's not always about what you said, y'know. It's about what you didn't say or do."

Click. 

John was returning the phone to the hook. Serj sat like an idiot for almost thirty seconds hoping he'd call back and that the hang up was an accident, but it wasn't. It seemed like a good place to hang up to John. If Serj liked to fucking think so much, he'd love pondering the meaning of that doozy. 

"Fuck, marry, kill. Joan Jett, Siouxsie Sioux and the blonde chick from Alien Sex Fiend."

Daron blinked at Shavo and made a face. 

"Probably kill Joan Jett because she's a lesbian and there's not a whole lot a guy can do to a lesbian that won't disgust her."

"That sounds a lot worse than it is. Go on."

"Fuck the blonde chick because she seems like the type to hit it and quit it anyway."

"'Hit it and quit it'. Who's the one getting fucked exactly?"

Daron made another face. 

"Marry Siouxsie so I could borrow her clothes whenever I wanted."

"That makes you sound so gay."

"Shut up."

"No, no it's cute. I promise."

"'Cute' my ass. You'd probably set them on fire because you'd be jealous I'm not taking your clothes anymore."

"I'm not jealous, you're jealous."

"Jealous of what?"

"Me."

"You're bald. I'm not jealous of a bald guy."

"Ohoho, fuck you bud."

"Do it,"

"Do what?"

"Fuck me. That makes you the gay one."

Serj knocked his knuckles gently against the door frame to stir attention from Daron. 

"Can I see you, Daron?"

Daron's smile never dimmed until Serj shut the door behind the two of them. Serj's bedroom was dark and the only sources of light were the window and the lamp. "I just talked to John. I think I have to fix this."

"Fix what? You already hugged me and shit, isn't that fixing it enough?"

"No, not at all." 

Serj sat at the foot of the bed and pat the spot next to him. Daron sat, but he pulled his sleeves over his hands and fidgeted in his lap. There was an empty, hollow feeling throughout his body. Serj gave Daron a serious look that he didn't return and began. 

"I don't want to watch you end up in jail for being irresponsible. I don't want you to be influenced into making choices you wouldn't normally make. Now, I know I sound like your dad, but hear me out. When you turn 18, I'll get off your ass about things like this. Then, at least you have the maturity to make your own decisions and you will have been exposed to enough of the world to influence them on your own. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Daron nodded to the floor. The fidgeting stopped. Serj knew he'd reeled him in. 

"If I catch you with cigarettes again, I might have to reconsider your position in the band. As much as I hate to do that, I don't want to watch you destroy yourself so early because you can't impress the crowds."

"I'm not trying to impre-"

"Yes you are. You might not see it now but, that's what you are doing. And this ends now."

Daron didn't move. He wanted nothing more than to return to the couch with Shavo, but something in Serj's aura was preventing him from leaving. "Come here, D."

Daron toes curled in his shoes. This feeling was getting uncomfortable for the teen but as an adult, Serj knew he was getting through to him. Daron was slouched over with his elbows on his knees, which wasn't exactly a helpful hug position. Of course, his posture wasn't the only thing not exactly screaming "hug me Serj!". Mostly Daron's attitude showed this. 

"Daron." 

In an attempt to stop the recreation of the awkward hug they shared that afternoon, Daron unfolded from his sulk and snuck his arms under Serj's, tightly hugging around his back. He pressed his face against Serj's chest, and, due to the size difference of the two, Serj was left with only one option to rest a comforting hand in the middle of Daron's back. The childish nature of Daron's hug made Serj feel even more responsible for him. It reminded him of the innocence he still had, and the innocence he needed to preserve. 

Serj rubbed his back like a parent to a child and let out a tense breath. 

Daron felt that if he hugged Serj maybe he would leave him alone. But, during the few seconds before Daron's arms went around Serj, time seemed to slow down, and what Serj had been saying to him finally came alive. It hit Daron like a truck. The hug was real, every last second of it. 

The hug tightened as Daron's mind wandered again. 

His band babied him. And it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. His band had been giving him the protectiveness and attention and care that his parents stopped having time for years before. Daron was shoved off so quickly into adulthood by private school and music that he didn't have time to be a kid, or feel carefree. Weed made him feel pretty carefree, yeah, but it didn't make him feel like a kid. That was what he really wanted--that same attention adults would give you as an 8 year old, when someone provided for you and did their best to make you happy, when you felt like someone was watching out for you every step of the way. Not having responsibilities was great, and Daron missed it oh so much.

**Author's Note:**

> *This story will feature John Dolmayan as the original drummer of the band. No mention of Andy Khachaturian.


End file.
